Pack Brothers
by AlphaBitches
Summary: HarryDraco FRIENDSHIP Blood is thicker than water...right? But what happens when you find that your father's blood runs through the veins of your nemisis, connecting you in ways neither of you dreamed?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"I'm afraid what you are asking is out of the question." Albus Dumbledore stated calmly, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his chest.

Narcissa Malfoy smiled coolly. "You really don't have any say in the matter Albus. Blood traitor or not, mass murderer or not, Sirius Black was Harry Potter's legal magical guardian. I am his next of kin by blood. Therefore, as the eldest of the remaining Black family, I inherit Black Manor, all relating properties, the family fortune…and Harry Potter. I am now the boy's legal guardian." She bared her teeth in a semblance of a grin. "And if that were not enough, it states quite plainly in both Lily's and James's wills that upon the unlikely event of Sirius's death, I am named godmother to Harry."

"His Muggle relatives—"

"Were more than happy to sign over any legal rights and obligations they had toward the boy. Of course, had they received some of the generous compensation the Weasleys have, they might not have been so eager to let the boy go." She watched the color drain from the elder wizard's face. "Harry doesn't know about that, does he?" She tsked. "I imagine he won't be so eager to run to the Weasleys once he finds out they've been essentially stealing from him for the past five years. Keep that in mind in case dear Molly suggests contesting my claim."

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Narcissa—"

"You owe me," she hissed fiercely. "You owe me for James, and for Lily, and for Sirius. I played out your little game, and people I loved were killed for your version of the 'greater good'! You didn't hesitate to sacrifice James and Lily on a whim. Don't think for a second that I won't do the same if you try to stand in my way."

Dumbledore studied the proud woman in front of him for a long moment. She met his gaze fearlessly with her head held high, challenge in every line of her posture. "What about Draco?" He said quietly. He left the other half—what about Lucius, right hand to Lord Voldemort?—unsaid but it hung in the air between them.

Her eyes narrowed. "My son will be turning sixteen within the next month. It's time he had a little family history lesson. Hopefully it will enlighten him to a few things." She drew a breath. "As for Lucius, he is in Azkaban. The bonds he laid upon me are gone. I have no desire to return to them. The Malfoy fortune is tainted, as is the Mansion. I would be willing to sell the property, with all of the artifacts inside—for a price."

"The Ministry—"

"Would be absolutely ecstatic to gain entrance to Lucius's private study, I'm sure. I can practically hear your precious Aurors frothing at the mouth." Her smile hardened. "I want immunity, and I want Harry. He is blood of my blood, Albus, whether either of us likes it or not. You know where my loyalties lie. I will not betray him to the Dark Lord. At the very least, doing so would put myself and my son into possible danger, and I am too much of a Slytherin—and Ravenclaw—to do such a thing." She stood up and held out a sheaf of papers. "So, are you going to play nicely or not? I can do this with or without you."

He shuffled through the papers, mentally frantically searching for a loophole, but knew there wasn't one. She had done her work well.

"This isn't over Narcissa," he warned even as he signed the papers which would hand the Boy-Who-Lived over into the hands of the wife of a Death Eater.

One pale brow arched as she gathered up the papers and stepped over to his fireplace. "I'm counting on it." She stepped into the fire and was gone in a swirl of smoke.

"I'm WHAT?" Harry Potter exclaimed, staring at his relatives in stunned disbelief.

"You're leaving." Petunia Dursley repeated, a maliciously happy smirk on her face. "Seems that Dumbledore wasn't completely straight with you. Since that good for nothing convict godfather of yours is dead—" she ignored Harry's warning growl. "We assumed we were stuck with you for another year or so, until this lady came by the other day. She claimed to be your godmother, and announced that she would be happy to take you off of our hands and compensate us for the trouble, no less! Although why anyone would willingly want you is beyond—"

"What did this woman look like? What was her name?" Harry interrupted desperately, hoping beyond hope that his aunt didn't say 'Bella LeStrange'." The name that did come out of her mouth, however, made his heart drop to his toes.

"Tall, elegant blonde woman, looked like she was a high society lady. Don't know what she wants with the likes of you. Name of Narcissa Malfoy." Completely unaware that she had just brought one of his worse nightmares to life, his aunt shooed him away. "Get on with you! You need to pack! Don't leave anything behind, and I don't want to see a single owl feather or dropping in my house when you're done, you understand?"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," he murmured automatically as his mind raced. Never mind that Hedwig was much cleaner than Dudley (and better company too). "Um, what time is Mrs. Malfoy—" the name stuck in his throat. "—coming to get me?"

She huffed, as if answering such a simple question wasn't worth her time. "Two o'clock. And I want this house spotless, top to bottom, inside and out, so you just finish with your room and come down here and help me. And lock that owl of yours up and put her in the cupboard until we're finished. I won't have you sending any last minute letters to any of your freaky friends to try to get out of this."

Well, there went that idea. Harry trudged dejectedly upstairs. "I can't bloody believe this!" He began throwing his stuff haphazardly into his trunk without really caring what went where. "Tonks just checked up on me, so the Order won't be back for another week or two. Can't call Hermione; no phone, and she's probably on vacation in France anyway. Dammit!" Hedwig hooted inquisitively from her cage, roused by her boy's agitated tone. "Sorry Hedwig," Harry apologized automatically. "After the past five years, I'm going to be stolen out from under the Order's nose by the wife of a Death Eater, and she's not going to even use magic! She's just going to stroll in here in broad daylight and take me away, and no one will ever know! Of course, if the bloody wards Dumbledore put up worked, then I wouldn't have to worry, except for the little loophole that says that a witch or wizard who does not intend me personal harm can enter the residence! She doesn't have any personal grudge against me, but I can think of a couple of acquaintances and relatives that do! Just bloody perfect!"

"BOY!" Petunia bellowed in a tone reminiscent of her husband's. "Quit dawdling and get down here before I hurry you up with a switch! Vernon and Dudley are due back at two thirty and I want you gone by then. And don't forget that bloody pigeon."

Stifling a groan, Harry hastily complied, knowing the truth behind her threat. He had called her bluff once when he was six, and had paid for it with the resulting welts on his backside and no dinner for three days. Shoving his trunk closed, he lugged it and Hedwig's cage downstairs, pausing to stow everything in his old cupboard under the stairs. "Sorry Hedwig," he whispered. "I'll get you out as soon as I can. Try to get some sleep—I may need you to make a break for it later tonight." She clicked her beak twice in the darkness, and he smiled wanly before closing the door.

When he returned to the living room where his aunt was waiting, she wordlessly handing him the cleaning bucket. "Start with Dudley's bathroom."

He grimaced and headed back up the stairs, wishing he could perform magic. He would give anything for a couple of quick cleaning charms—or a bubble head charm so he didn't have to breathe in the fumes left behind by his pungent cousin. After the bathroom was the kitchen, then the living room, his own small bedroom, the downstairs bathroom, and the kitchen nook. Everything was scrubbed under Petunia's relentless eye (worse than Mad-Eye Moody's, Harry thought). If he missed a speck of dust he was required to start completely over. By the time he was finished it was coming on one forty-five.

"Go take a shower," his aunt ordered finally. "Be sure you don't waste the hot water!"

Too exhausted to reply, he trudged back up the stairs for the last time. While in the shower he wondered morosely if he should just drown himself and be done with it, but then figured with his luck (and the damn prophecy) it wouldn't work anyway. He didn't have enough time either way; his aunt came pounding on the door in warning exactly three minutes after he had started the shower. Gritting his teeth against some choice responses, he toweled himself off and quickly dressed in his school clothes, leaving off his robes. Making sure his wand was in his wrist holster (courtesy of Mad Eye Moody after yet another lecture about losing a buttock for keeping it in his back pocket), he took a deep breath and walked slowly back down the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2: The Meeting

**Chapter 2: the meeting**

"Harry! There you are," his aunt gushed, a fake smile on her horsey face.

Narcissa turned at the sound of his name, sucking in a slight breath at her first full sight of her godson. She had seen him before at the Quidditch World Cup, but she had been with Lucius and Draco and had needed to maintain appearances of a good little Death Eater trophy wife. Now, however, she had the luxury to study this son of two of her closest childhood friends. What she saw nearly broke her heart.

James had always been the epitome of an athlete; tall, handsome and arrogant. He had stood an even six foot, with a wiry frame of muscle over his deceptively gangly body.

His son, at sixteen, was barely five foot eight, and Narcissa would've bet that he didn't way an ounce over one hundred and forty pounds. The only instant resemblance to his father was the hair; dark and permanently windswept, even when there was no wind to mess it up.

James had been a lion; bold, with big gestures and wearing his emotions on his sleeve for all to see. Harry, on the other hand…Narcissa's eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the way he balanced slightly on the balls of his feet, crouched low, ready for fight or flight. Emerald green eyes watched her warily, like a wounded animal who hasn't decided whether this new threat was friend or foe.

"Mister Potter." She greeted him quietly with a slight inclination of her head.

"Mrs. Malfoy." He replied coolly, not moving.

"I trust your aunt has explained why I am here?"

"She has." Again, the two worded answer. Not quite openly hostile, but with enough of an underlying threat that she knew he had his wand nearby and was perfectly prepared to use it, Restrictions on Underage Magic or not.

"In that case, shall we?" She deliberately turned to face his aunt, who was motioning for him to get his stuff. "Mrs. Dursley, it's been a pleasure. Thank you for your time, and for taking care of Harry all this time." She ignored the muffled snort in favor of keeping the plastic social smile on her face as the Muggle woman babbled on about being grateful to her for taking Harry away.

In the meantime Harry had returned, lugging his trunk and a distinctly ruffled snowy owl in a cage. He glanced at his aunt before beginning to turn away—only to hesitate and turn back. "I would say thanks as well," he said darkly. "But considering that you have made a point of letting me know that every moment of my miserable life in this miserable house has been by your leave, I won't. Oh, and there's always the part where you agree to turn me over to the wife of a Death Eater. So goodbye and good riddance Aunt Petunia. I hope you get everything you deserve."

With that he sent a slashing glance at Narcissa. "If you're serious about this godmother nonsense, let's get on with it."

"Very well." She replied, striding calmly to the front door.

"You're going to use a portkey in broad daylight, in a Muggle neighborhood. Are you crazy?"

She arched one perfectly pale brow at him. "As it so happens, I drove here."

"In a mere Muggle vehicle? What, no flying carpet? I thought you Malfoys hated everything Muggle." He sneered, following her out to the impressive Mercedes town car and stowing his belongings in the trunk before getting into the passenger seat.

"Sarcasm does not become you Harry, nor does being rude. I know you do not trust me by virtue of my family. I can only offer the facts that I am unarmed, have not yet requested your wand, and have Dumbledore's magical and physical signature verifying that I am indeed your godmother and new legal guardian."

"You WHAT!" He grabbed the papers from her and scanned them. There was Dumbledore's mark-a phoenix in outstretched in flight on his Burning Day. Right below it were two more faded signs; one of an outline of a tiger and the other a familiar stag. His jaw dropped. "You knew my parents?"

She smiled, tapping the console three times with her wand. The car roared to life and drove away from the Dursley residence. "It will take us to our destination without prompting." She answered his frown. "As for the rest, I will explain everything once we are home. It is a story that my son must hear as well, for it involves him almost as closely as it does you."

Harry snorted rudely. "Figures."

"I do not condone my son's actions over the past few years Harry, but it is not without complete cause. You might empathize with him a bit more; you two are the halves of a seamless whole." She smiled faintly at his skeptical look, but said no more. "Look, we approach the Black Sanctuary."

Harry's brows rose at the unusual name but he said nothing as he studied the large property with interest. From the outside it looked like a stereotypical haunted mansion; tall, dark, and imposing. He was not allowed to inspect the inside at his leisure because he was immediately ushered down a series of hallways. "Is my son home?" Narcissa inquired, never pausing in her brisk stride as her butler joined them.

"Yes, my lady. He is awaiting you in the spare workroom, as requested."

"Very good. Keep everyone away unless I say otherwise; I want no interruptions." She commanded. He bowed silently and melted into the shadows.

Harry searched but couldn't find where he had disappeared, and there was no pop signaling Apparition. Curious, he took a step away from the door, only to be stopped by Narcissa's voice. "Come, Mister Potter. It is time you learned of your true family history."

Wary, he followed her into the sparse room. Draco was standing by the window, looking around the room with disgust. At the sight of his mother he immediately began to complain. "Mother, what is this all about? Jones said you requested that I await you here, but-" He noticed her companion. Silver eyes met emerald green--right before they narrowed in recognized hatred. They both went for their wands with the speed of a striking snake—only to have them jerked out of their hands by Narcissa's disarming spell, followed by two quick immobilizing spells.

"Before you two do all of Voldemort's work for him and kill each other listen to me!" She snapped. "I am going to release the binding spell. You will each go to one of the seats across the room and sit down. You will not speak. You will not curse. You will not even look at each other until I am finished. Do you understand?" She finished with silky menace. They nodded stiffly. No fool, she loosened the magical bonds enough for them to follow her command, but not enough for complete freedom.

When they were both seated, she resituated the bonds to stick them to their chairs, ignoring their growls of frustration. "Enough." She ordered, agitation making her glow with suppressed power as it answered her need. Taking a deep breath, she took the third seat facing them.

"In my child hood," she began quietly. "There were seven reigning pureblood families. The Blacks, the Potters, the Malfoys, the Patils, the Parkinsons, the Weasleys, and the Zabinis. Myself, James Potter, Sirius, and Regina Patil were slightly younger than the other children, and therefore gravitated towards each other. Sirius was one of my best male friends-as much as any respectable young lady could have such a relationship. I even dated James briefly—before helping him realize Lily was the one for him." She smiled softly as both boys' eyes widened in surprise.

"Lily Evans was the smartest witch in our year. She was beautiful and feisty—and a Muggle-born. I was pure, but I was a Ravenclaw, and thus not quite as tightly bound to the traditional lines of hatred drawn in the sand between Gryffindor and Slytherin. After a year of competing in everything, we became best friends. I was maid of honor at her wedding."

Both boys stared at her incredulously.

"James named Sirius godfather to you Harry, and Lily named me your godmother." She got up and began to pace, needing the movement.

"By the time Lily found out she was pregnant times had darkened. She was a mediwitch, as was I." She took a deep breath. "Lucius was the first to take the Dark Mark, unbeknownst to me. All I knew as that I was a trophy wife trying to produce an heir to a husband made sterile by the Dark Lord's touch."

Harry frowned. It had never occurred to him, but that did make sense. Voldemort feared and hated everything good and light, with the topmost of that being love. A child was a physical symbol of that love. His Mark was a symbol of hatred, consuming everything not of the dark.

"I feared the consequences should I tell him what had happened, so I turned to James for help." Turning, she caught the silver eyes of her son, so much like her own. "As a mediwitch I could manipulate your DNA so that you would have pale hair, skin, and silver eyes. Lucius was never the wiser."

"You mean…I'm not a Malfoy?" Draco gaped at her.

"You are a Black." Narcissa replied sharply. "But no. The Malfoy line ends with Lucius. You are the half son of James Potter."

**AN: And so it starts**. Thank you **to Your Mom is My Heart, blue October, Black's Phoenix, Karma, **and** Vivilp182** for reviewing! In answer to your comment and question **Karma**, no, Draco doesn't kill Harry LOL. Fair from it, though it will NOT be slash. And this story is very daring; we can definitely say that no one has taken this particular angle before. IF you've read a story like this, please post the link. We have our own plans, but are always interested in reading other author's interpretations. **Vivil**, your question is answered in the first paragraph of this chapter.

For those of you who have added us to your story alerts, you rock, and we appreciate the interest! Feel free to leave a comment and share your opinion. We await comments, especially after this chapter. And it's only going to get more…interesting. –grin-


	3. Chapter 3: Your Father's Son

**Chapter 3: Your father's son**

Absolute silence greeted her announcement. Perhaps it was the shock, or maybe it was the unexpected blow completely out of left field. Surely neither boy had expected _this._

"Waaaait a minute. But that means that Draco and I are…brothers?"

"Under different circumstances you would've grown up together. James was already matchmaking between you two and the Patil girls."

Harry and Draco exchanged horrified glares. "I can't be related to HIM!"

"And why not? You certainly both have your father's traits." She listed them off. "Stubbornness, rushing in before you think, high standards of pride and honor. Minds made for trouble and a talent for rule breaking. Haven't you wondered why you're constantly drawn to each other?" She shook her head. "Schoolyard enemies you may be, but there is also a grudging respect. You wouldn't know what to do if one of you were killed or disappeared. You always look out for each other, and notice when something's not right."

"Out of hatred!" Draco snapped. "Find the enemy's weakness and exploit it. That's what Father always taught me. And I know perfectly well what I'd do if Potter was dead. I'd be the first one to throw dirt on him-not that he needs it, dirty blood that he already has."

"Careful Draco." Harry growled. "That particular platform is getting very shaky, considering that the same blood could've run through your veins."

His nemesis stared at him in shock. "Oh come on! Don't tell me you actually believe that rubbish, do you?"

"It makes more sense than you might think." Harry murmured, deep in thought. Oh yes, it made a lot of sense, so much that it scared him. Remus and Sirius had both been more than happy to share tales of James' Marauder days, but whenever Harry had ventured questions about some of the pictures in his parents' photo album that Hagrid had given him they changed the subject or laughed it off. He looked at Narcissa. "You're the woman in the photos!"

"The photo album," she murmured. "I had forgotten…Yes. I am."

"What photos?" Draco demanded. "Mother, this nonsense has gone on far enough! There is no way in the nine hells that Potter and I are related, and you disgrace the Malfoy name by even suggesting such a thing! Now, untie me this instant and I will forget this ridiculous conversation ever happened."

"Careful, Dragon heart. Lucius has taught you to think with your mind and wand, but he is no longer here. You and I both know that if you opened your mind and your heart you would realize that I am telling the truth." Narcissa warned quietly, holding his gaze for a long moment.

"You're both raving mad! Release me at once!"

"Would you believe the evidence of your own eyes?" Harry demanded. "You know as well as I do that magical photos can't be tampered with." He had found that out after fourth year, when the rumors had cropped up in the Daily Prophet about him and Hermione, fueled by Rita Skeeter's photos. He looked at Narcissa. "The album is in my trunk. "

She inclined her head slightly and spoke one word aloud. "Emmy!"

A young, female house elf dressed in a small maid's uniform appeared immediately. "Yes, Mistress?"

"In Mr. Potter's trunk you will find a photo album. Please bring it to me."

The house elf vanished with a pop! and reappeared almost instantaneously. "You are my son, Draco, but you have also been raised by Lucius. I want your oath that you will not attempt to harm me or Harry by physical, magical, emotional or other means, and that you will consider everything with an open mind, and more importantly, an open heart." She waited for his response.

"Fine. I give my word as a Malfoy that I won't try anything." He finally growled, although there was a strange glint in his silver eyes.

Instead of releasing the bonds, she turned to Harry. "And you?"

Harry never took his gaze off of his rival. "I will swear the same, if he gives his word as a Potter, not a Malfoy. That oath has no basis because he is not tied to that name." Draco's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't thought his mother or Potter would catch that little loophole. Harry smirked at him. "Wonderful thing, having the smartest witch in the school as your best friend for the past six years."

Caught, he had no choice but to push the hated words past his lips. "I give my word…as a Black," he spat. "That I won't try to harm you or Scar head here…and that I will see the evidence you supply."

Obviously aware that she wasn't going to get any more cooperation than that, Narcissa turned to Harry and received his oath as well. Taking a defensive stance by the door, she released the bonds holding them and floated the album over to her son.

Draco flipped it open, his lip curling into a sneer at the first picture. The miniature eleven year old Harry, Hermione, and Ron scowled back at him and turned their backs. Turning the pages irritably, he nearly missed it. His silver eyes widened, trying desperately to deny the evidence in front of him; a young, beautiful Narcissa smiling and laughing besides another young man with roguish black hair and mischievous blue eyes. Next to him was a man whom could only be a Potter with that familiar messy black hair and round glasses, and another woman with vibrant red hair and laughing emerald green eyes. Potter was dressed in formal Wizarding robes, the red haired woman in a white gown. Her hair was pinned up with white roses.

"Who is the other man there?" Draco demanded gruffly, deciding to avoid acknowledging the possible truth of his mother's words for the moment. For the first time in a while, he felt his hard won control over his emotions begin to waver. He didn't know quite what to think; therefore he decided not to think about it at all.

"Sirius Black." Harry answered quietly for Narcissa. "Your cousin by blood, and a good man. And not the murderer everyone believed him to be." His throat tightened as he watched Sirius duck around James to scoop Lily up and twirl her in a circle as they both laughed. Looking away, he caught Narcissa's gaze and met it squarely. "I don't know what your sister," his lip curled into a snarl at the thought of Bellatrix. "Told you about Sirius but know that he did not betray them to Voldemort. Peter Pettigrew did, may he burn in a thousand hells."

"I know." She replied, knowing the next words were going to shake what little faith and trust he had left in his world. "I only found out recently, but that doesn't change the fact that Sirius could be standing here as a free man, were it not for Molly Weasley."

"WHAT?!?" The cry came simultaneously from both boys' throats.

Narcissa's eyes were hard as flint, her hands clenching and unclenching as if she wanted to wrap them around the stout Molly Weasley's neck. "It isn't mere coincidence that Peter ended up there as the 'family pet'. Molly brought him there. She willingly gave him to her sons, knowing he was a murderer and a betrayer to the Light in disguise, and protected him for thirteen years, knowing Sirius was suffering in Azkaban!"

"NO! You're lying!" Harry shouted angrily.

"I am not! Molly Weasley is a pureblood. She was also the youngest of five girls. Arthur was the sixth son of eight. It was a fair match for all involved, but she still hungered for power and prestige." She laughed bitterly. "She set her sights on the Blacks, on Sirius, but he would have nothing to do with her. Then she turned to Frank Longbottom, but he was already betrothed to Alice in a love match nearly as strong as James and Lily's. Arthur was the very last resort, and that was only because his father was prominent in the Ministry of Magic and she hoped to gain political power through her husband, at the very least. What a bitter pill it must have been to find herself chained to a Muggle-lover like Arthur. She was forced to stay home, barefoot and pregnant, while he struggled to make ends meet."

Harry was breathing hard, willing her to stop. He knew what was coming. He could feel it down to his bones.

The smile on the beautiful woman's face was cold and unforgiving. "Spies can work with you or against you-you of all people should know this, Harry Potter. Severus Snape is not the only double agent working under Dumbledore's thumb, though he knows it not."

"I don't believe you!"

"Oh isn't that rich!" Draco snapped, causing his mother and Harry to start in surprise. "Bit hypocritical, isn't it Potter? You were quick enough to agree earlier, yet when the story's about your precious Weasels it simply can't be true, can it?"

Narcissa never took her eyes away from Harry. "Think about it Harry. She sheltered Peter Pettigrew. She was in the bookshop the day Lucius passed Tom Riddle's diary on. Oh yes," she nodded as he frowned. "The diary was never supposed to go to the youngest Weasley female. It was meant for the eldest. Molly was supposed to take it away from Ginny that night. But Ginny hid it, and her mother couldn't very well ask about something she was supposed to know nothing about, could she? But that's not quite all.

Every chance she gets, she tries to smother you. You think it's out of motherly love, but consider her protests. They aren't about your returning to the Dursley's, horrid people though they are. They aren't about you not receiving proper training, or being treated as an intelligent young man who is also the possible Savior of the Wizarding World. No. Every single one of her protests has been against your training, learning new spells, and eventually going to fight Voldemort. Why would someone who wants you to succeed be so against you gaining the skills and weapons needed to do so?"

"You. Don't. Know. What. You're. Talking. About." Harry growled.

"Don't I?" Narcissa arched one fine pale brow and pressed harder. "It wasn't mere coincidence that the Weasley's just 'happened' by when you were at Platform 9 ¾ that first day. Nor was it coincidence that Ronald Weasley 'happened' to sit in your car because all the others were conveniently full and did everything he could to become your best friend."

"Especially when he's just as proud of his pure blood as any Slytherin." Draco added, unable to keep quiet about a subject that had rubbed him sore since that first day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Already dazzled by the idea of the Boy-Who-Lived, he had been truly hurt when the raven-haired boy had snubbed him in favor of the scrawny redhead and turned his nose up at everything green and silver. "You want to know the real reason why Weasley hasn't asked Granger out when the entire school knows he likes her? Because she's a Mud-"

"Draco." Narcissa warned.

"Muggle-born. Not because she's a hoity-toity know it all, but because of her blood. You have no idea how much it must bust his balls to know that a scrawny little half-blood like you is the Golden Boy around here. You're rich, though Merlin knows no one would know it to look at you. His own sister gushes over you, although again Merlin knows why since you probably wouldn't know what to do with a girl if one pulled down your pants and-"

"Draco!"

Her son smirked unrepentantly. "You even made Seeker as a bloody first year. Every time Weasley turns around, you're defeating some other Big Bad yet again or accomplishing something he never could even given the chance, putting him squarely in his place as second best." His smirk widened. "Weasley's been taking it to the throat and swallowing every single year. No wonder he's starting to show his true colors now. I'll bet you fifty Galleons that he's trying to create a rift between you and Granger, so he can cement your loyalty to him first."

Harry gritted his teeth, still fighting against the inevitable. It couldn't be true! Ron was his best friend, his stalwart companion. Molly had been practically a second mother to him. That all this time, they had been deliberately manipulating him… because as much as he hated to admit it, Mal- err… Draco was right. Ron had become more and more arrogant, both in person and through his letters, going on and on about his plans for Quidditch next year and his relationship with Lavender. He never asked how Harry was doing, and the only times he mentioned Hermione was to complain about her.

"Come." Narcissa said finally, seeing that the emerald-eyed boy needed some time alone to think and let things settle in. "I will show you to your room Harry. Draco, dinner is at seven. I expect you to be there. We still have much to discuss." Her warning look told him that she had not forgotten about his avoidance of accepting the truth of his lineage.

Reminded of the other half of this startling conversation, his smirk was immediately replaced by a scowl. "Whatever." He muttered sullenly, stalking out of the room. He was in such a snit that he didn't even realize that she still had his wand.

Shaking her head, she led the way to a comfortably furnished room decorated in the warm Gryffindor red and gold. "You need only call aloud and Emmy will bring you anything you wish." She told him. "Your owl is here as well, although out in the owlry until she becomes adjusted to her new surroundings. Please do not attempt to send a letter to your friends just yet. The wards are set up so nothing can come on or off the property without my approval or knowledge. You will only bring harm to your owl if you attempt to send her through them."

He nodded dumbly and perched on the bed, still dazed. She waited a moment before sighing softly and leaving, shutting the door on her way out. Returning to her room, she went immediately over to a large stone fountain in one corner of the ornate room. Taking a seat upon the comfortable stone seat positioned for the purpose, she leaned over and gently touched the surface of the crystal clear pool, murmuring an incantation. The water shimmered and changed to reveal the worried face of Regina Zabini.


	4. Chapter 4: Wolves In Sheep's Clothing

**Chapter 4**

"Sister." The auburn-haired witch greeted Narcissa formally with a slight inclination of her head. It was clear that she had been expecting the blonde witch's call. "How goes your quest?"

"Not well. I fear that my emotions overrode common sense and I pushed too hard." Narcissa replied worriedly. "Harry and Draco know the truth-the full truth." She told her friend and confidante of the confrontation in the workroom.

Regina sighed, tucking a lock of chestnut hair behind one ear. "So be it. There's nothing to be done about it now. I take it that they have not yet accepted the truth as it stands?"

Narcissa shook her head. "No. Harry was more willing to believe that he and Draco are half-brothers than he was to accept that Molly Weasley is a traitor to the Light and an indirect cause for the reason that his parents and Sirius are not alive and with him today. Albus has laid the groundwork well. Place Harry into a home with people whom knowingly hate anything and anyone having to do with magic, and then tell him that he is in possession of said magic, and he will leap at the first show of kindness offered to another so called 'freak' like him." She clenched her fists as anger at the treatment her godson had experienced at the hands of the Dursleys streaked through her once more.

"Focus, Sister. Your anger may burn brightly upon his behalf, but it does Harry no good at this point. You need to be clear minded if we are to find a solution." Regina cautioned.

Narcissa took a deep breath and nodded, harnessing her anger.

"How did Draco respond? I can't imagine he is rejoicing over the fact that he and Harry share the same father, the same blood."

Narcissa snorted inelegantly. "That's an understatement. I have no doubt that he would be running to Bella or one of the other remaining Death eaters with the news, were it not for my wards and the fact that being Harry's half-brother potentially makes him a bargaining chip and liability. The Dark Lord would stop at nothing to destroy him if he knew Draco had such a connection to Harry. At least, that's what Draco believes in the back of his mind." She smiled triumphantly.

Regina shook her head. "You and your shades of grey, Narcissa. A coercion spell-even a subtle one-like that could very well be considered Dark, yet you insist that it is not the spell itself; it is the intent behind it. I don't particularly agree, but I understand your need to protect your child."

"Children, Regina," Narcissa corrected quietly. "Harry is mine now as well." She waited a heartbeat, then continued briskly. "I noticed that you were a bit distracted earlier. What are you thinking?"

Regina's reflection rippled slightly, as if the other witch had shrugged. "I was wondering if you checked the both of them for compulsion spells when you were placing that one on Draco It is very likely that Lucius, in his narrow-minded view of the 'perfect heir', may have placed spells on Draco to compel him to act and respond a certain way. And Dumbledore may have done the same to Harry."

"I didn't find any on Draco, but Harry…" Narcissa frowned darkly and turned to her friend. "Please excuse me my friend; I'm going to follow up on this little theory of yours. And after that I'm going to call in some reinforcements."

"Who?" Regina asked curiously.

Narcissa smiled grimly. "What better way to deal with a couple of young wolves than with an old Alpha?"

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to his mother, Draco had not remained in his room for very long. After all, why sulk alone when there are others to share the misery with? Opening the door to his room, he sauntered out, acting as if he had every right to be strolling the hallway, which, technically, he did. Narcissa never actually forbid him to leave his room until dinner, although it had been very much implied.

Harry stared morosely at the ceiling, painted to match the night sky at its peak. He was idly going through the constellations, with the painting obligingly rearranging itself to show different sections as needed, when there was a sharp rap at the door. Before he could rouse himself enough to answer, it opened and Draco strolled in.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped exasperatedly, turning his attention back to the ceiling. He really was not in the mood to deal with the other boy at the moment.

"I just wanted to reflect on the ironies of this day." Draco replied, gesturing expansively. "It's amazing, really, how quickly the tides can turn."

Before he could continue rubbing the fact that he had been right about the Weasleys all along and now the best friend of the Boy-Who-Lived was truly a blood traitor to both sides, he noticed Harry's wrist was glowing faintly. Distracted, he gestured at the source. "Potter, is there a particular reason why your bracelet is glowing?"

Harry sighed impatiently. "What are you on about now?" He still refused to call his nemesis Malfoy because he knew how much pride the other boy had taken in being the heir of a Death eater.

Draco rolled his eyes. "The cheap piece of string someone had the gall to call a bracelet or something." He elaborated. "Who gave it to you?"

Harry glanced down at his wrist and frowned. "As much as I'm probably going to regret answering your inane questions, Ron did. What of it?"

"Because Potter," Draco drawled, pulling out his wand. "There's at least three compulsion spells on it."

"Give it up Draco." Harry scoffed. "I would be able to tell if there were compulsion spells on me."

"Not necessarily. Let's conduct a test, shall we? Take the bracelet off." For some reason, Draco had a perverse need to prove to Potter once and for all that Weasley was bad news. Maybe then the stupid git would realize that appearances could be deceiving.

"This is stupid. I'm not playing this game with you anymore."

"Fine. We'll go about this another way then. Tell me; are there three beads on your bracelet? A white one, a red one, and a black one perhaps?"

Harry examined his wrist and was stunned to discover that yes, there were three beads just as Draco had described. "So?"

"Those are focus beads. The caster can cast a spell upon them, and they will retain the essence of the spell for as long as the caster specifies. In this case, I would say that the white bead is for a blind faith spell-so that you would trust the caster and his-or her-relations completely. The red bead..." Draco frowned thoughtfully, caught up despite himself. "Red is usually for passion, for love, so perhaps a love spell or potion of sorts. Have you had any girl show unnaturally keen interest in you since you met the Weaselys?"

Ginny Weasley immediately flashed through Harry's mind, and the way that both Molly and Ron had always laughed her crush off. Now he had to wonder: was it by her choice to act the way she did, or was it their doing?

He clenched his teeth and said roughly, "and the third bead?" he asked, instead of answering the question posed him.

Draco could see that his theory was really starting to strike home, and had no qualms about continuing-especially about the third and final bead. "Black stands for sickness and eventual death." He waited a moment for that to sink in before continuing. "You're no featherweight Potter, no matter how you try to hide what muscle you've got under those horrid rags." He shuddered delicately. "I wouldn't even give those to a house elf." He sneered for a moment, then composed himself. "Anyway, you could potentially weigh more than what you do now, and you are probably supposed to be taller than you currently are. Without doing more extensive tests, I would say that the caster meant for you to be restricted-physically and magically. I'd bet a hundred Galloens that you're actually at about half the magic potential you should be." The sneer reappeared. "It might explain why you're so remedial at potions when your mother was apparently excellent at them. Even if she was a...muggle-born."

"Come on Draco." Harry fell back on his bed. He couldn't believe he had nearly fallen for the blonde Slytherin's trick! "Why would Molly Weasley-if it was even her-put a spell on me to keep me from gaining weight, and then try to stuff me like a pillow every time she sees me?"

"Appearances?" Draco shrugged expansively. "To reinforce the spell work through potions? I would hope that you don't wear that thing all the time, so she has to do something to cover the time periods when she doesn't see you. As for why, well...what better way to reinforce trust and loyalty than by giving you what you need? Food, companionship-even you can't resist those, Potter."

Harry opened his mouth to retaliate, to say anything in defense of those he had come to think of as his family over the years. But he couldn't. Everything Draco had said, everything Narcissa had revealed earlier, whispered insistently in the back of his mind, eating away at his doubts. Still, he fought to ignore them-they were the wife and son of a Death eater, after all! The doubt nibbling around the edges of his heart caused the white bead on his bracelet glow insistently brighter, unknown to him, reacting to the it's bearers feelings. Unnoticed, Draco began to move closer with this wand, murmuring under his breath.

"There's an easy way to find out." Draco pointed out after a moment, lowering his wand. "Take the bracelet off, and set it on the table."

"Call your mother in here first." Harry ordered grimly. "I don't trust her, but I trust you even less. Let her confirm what you've just said, and then we'll see."

"Typical Gryffindor. Afraid the big bad Slytherin is going to eat you?" Draco mocked. "I've had my wand the entire time, you fool, and I haven't tried to curse, hex, or maim you for the past ten minutes. Surely that earns me something."

"Ten minutes does not make up for nearly six years of torment." Harry retorted. "And how do I know that you won't just put another spell on me after these ones are off?"

Grumbling, Draco threw his hands up in the air. "Bloody sodding Gryffindor! Emmy!"

The house elf appeared with a pop! "Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Tell my mother I wish to speak with her, in Potter's room."

Emmy quivered but nodded. "Yes sir." She disappeared, and Narcissa made her entrance after a couple of moments.

Before she could scold him, Draco quickly gave her the basic rundown of what they had learned. She examined the bracelet and confirmed his discovery-with one omission. "The restriction spell was not cast by Molly. The components involved are much too complex and powerful, especially when made strong enough to last over the entire summer. No. Only Albus Dumbledore or someone of his caliber would have the power to create such a thing."

Draco snorted, his expression deceptively smug to hide his surprise. It wasn't that he didn't think the old man was capable of such a thing, him and his preaching's of the "greater good" and all, but still. He had been so sure all these years that the Head Master had made Potter out to be the Golden Boy because... well because he actually believed in him. He would never admit it, but it was one of the reasons he had been so jealous of Potter after their initial meeting.

Harry, however, could not think past his suddenly raging emotions. He was suddenly caught between the explosive need to defend Dumbledore, and the unbearably acute feeling of betrayal. He reacted physically, tearing at the clasp of the bracelet until it broke open. It fell off of his wrist with a clatter, hitting the stone floor.

Narcissa acted in tandem with the sound, putting a tight shield around it and levitating it to a nearby table. "There." She said quietly. "How do you feel?"

It was as if thick, stringy cobwebs were slowly clearing from his senses. Everything was beginning to feel brighter, more vibrant. The constant aches and pains that he had associated with sleeping in his cramped bed at the Dursleys and being hit with multiple Unforgivable curses were leaving him. He could feel his magic surging through his body, giving him strength.

"Wow," he breathed, as the part of his mind that had argued so vehemently against Narcissa's and Draco's accusations died a quiet death. Everything they had told him made perfect sense, and not just because it came from the mouths of silver-tongued Slytherins. Molly working with Wormtail, Dumbledore's manipulations… But before he could adjust to this latest allegation against those he had trusted most in his life, Draco struck, hitting directly at Harry's vulnerable state of mind.

"You know, the irony in all of this is more than a little amusing. Just about every person you've ever trusted has been repeatedly stabbing you in the back. At least those Muggle relatives of yours had the guts to be blunt about hating you. But the best part of it all is that even your precious Dumbledore could care less about what you need or what you feel, as long as he can keep you in the flock with the rest of his sheep. But mores the pity for blind Gryffindors who wear their hearts on their sleeves." Draco's smirk widened just slightly, his expression condescending. "Face it, Potter. You're a pawn, and you always will be unless you grow some back bone and stop following orders. Just look at how Dumbledore and the Dark Lord are moving you around, manipulating you to whatever position they see fit in their game of Wizard's Chess."

Harry stepped up until they were nearly nose to nose. Green eyes bore into silver. "I will if you will, _Potter_."

Surprised, Draco stumbled back a step. "What?"

Harry followed him. "You say that I should grow some backbone and stop following orders. Well, you're right. It's about time I take control and start doing things my way. But only if you do the same."

"I am not a sheep!" Draco sputtered.

"Baaa! Oh He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, we are not worthy! Baaa! Please, brand us and order us around and think for us, for we are too gullible and stupid to do it on our own!" Harry mocked, clasping his hands together. "Give me a break. Slytherins are supposed to be ambitious and cunning. Since when is having a snake-faced-hypocrite tell you what to do ambitious and cunning?"

Draco didn't respond, so Harry pressed harder. "Oh and before you go spouting off about your precious Lucius, let me point out that he's the biggest sheep of all. He's the crotchety old ewe with the bell around his neck. Last year, at the graveyard? He was right there with his nose in the dirt, groveling at the feet of his master with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle. Just another white mask in the herd. Faceless and expendable. Just. Like. You. No Death Eater has a mind of his own, none of them can make a move without ole' Tommy boy knowing about it. He says "jump" and they all scamper about like rats to do his bidding either to win approval or for fear of being tortured just within an inch of their lives. That's the flock you're so eager to become a part of, just so you can say you're some great and powerful wizard. Tell me, Draco, where's the power in being stripped of your own free-will?" Harry smirked. "So like I said, you grow a backbone and maybe I will, too."

Silence stretched between them as they glared at each other again. Finally, Draco spoke. "What did you mean by calling the Dark Lord a hypocrite, and who's 'Tommy'?"

"Exactly what I said. Voldemort is the biggest hypocrite out there. Did you ever have detention for Filch where he made you polish all the trophies and badges in the trophy case?" Harry replied, slightly calmer. Draco groaned and nodded. "Did you see a badge for 'Special Services to the School', awarded to Tom Riddle?"

"Riddle?" Draco repeated. "Of course. He was a Slytherin, at the top of his class, and Head Boy. Plus he saved the school."

"Tom Riddle was a half-blood; his father was a Muggle and his mother a witch by the name of Maurope Gaunt. He was sent to an orphanage at an early age and discovered his magic on his own. He detested his 'filthy muggle father' for his non-magical blood and set about becoming the most powerful wizard the world, taking out his revenge on innocent muggles, muggle-borns, and half-bloods like himself."

Harry took Draco's wand and wrote the words 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' in the air. "It's an anagram-it changes to 'I am Lord Voldemort'. And the service he provided to the school involved the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. It killed Moaning Myrtle—a Muggle-born, I would assume—and he blamed it on one of Hagrid's pets and got him expelled. So." He crossed his arms defiantly. "Next time one of your fellow Housemates starts bleating about the mighty Salazar Slytherin and his pure blood heir cleaning the school of the 'impurities', tell them that it will never happen, because the first one the heir would have to cleanse would be himself."

Draco was again stunned to silence. It was a day of revelation for both of them. "Well," Narcissa said, stepping back into the room, "if you two are willing to call a mutual truce for a bit, dinner is ready. Shall we adjourn to the dinning room?" During their heated exchange neither boy had noticed her slipping quietly out the door.

She had ordered Emmy to stay, hidden in the shadows, to keep an eye on things and immobilize them if need be, but had had the feeling that it wouldn't be necessary. Shock can work with you or against you, enabling you to open your senses to things that you may have been blind or deaf to before. Such was the case with these boys.

She waited as their gazes held for a moment longer. Before, the emerald and silver eyes had been filled with impotent hatred. Now, with everything they knew to be simple truth shattered before them, they were re-evaluating, both themselves and each other. Their bodies were no longer tense and poised for attack at a moment's notice. Rather, it was their stubborn will that held them in place, neither really ready to give up the last familiar thing in their lives. It was pure irony and yet fitting, Narcissa thought, that even though everything had shifted and changed forever, the one thing that remained constant was their connection to each other. She could see them clinging to their emotions, fighting to stay angry because that was familiar. Harry Potter hated Draco Malfoy and Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter. End of story.

But now the slate was clean, and there was room to start anew.

Neither of them said anything as Draco turned away first, Harry following silently a moment after. Narcissa sighed in sagging relief. It was a step; a small one, but a step nonetheless. Maybe now, there would be peace in this house.


End file.
